


With Every Single Beat of My Heart

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Series: this could be heaven for everyone [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Schmoop, Tony POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 16:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17470940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: A coda toLove’s Such an Old-Fashioned Word.





	With Every Single Beat of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Rating disclaimer: Rated M for mentions of sexual situations, but there's no on-page smut in this fic itself.

It’s well after lunch when Tony comes down to the common area, in vague hopes of a meal or at least something to get his stomach to shut up. Most of the team are already there, half of them geared up for the flight out, and it’s a sign of the times that no one blinks at Tony’s extra disheveled state – hair a mess, clothes grabbed from the floor instead of the closet, bare feet.

Rhodey, Wanda and Sam are deep in shop talk – Tony picks up enough words to know to tune out – but Natasha tilts her head in vague acknowledgement at Tony and says, “I know you’ve put in the new engines, but we still can’t afford to be late.”

“Not my fault,” Tony says.

“Kind of your fault,” Natasha says.

“Can’t you be on my side for once?” Tony opens the fridge, still bleary, and is startled at the touch of hands on his shoulders – Natasha, who’s now standing behind him and has carefully pointed him towards the little stack of packaged leftovers. Tony takes the glass container of lasagna, only for Natasha to pluck it from his hands and replace it with a mug of freshly-brewed coffee.

“I’m always on your side,” Natasha says, putting the glass container in the microwave. “I did say _kind of_ your fault, not _entirely_ your fault.”

“So you agree that it’s also Steve’s fault?”

“Oh, definitely.” Natasha leans her hip against the counter, mirroring Tony’s stance. “I’m just suggesting that some cooperation was necessary on your part.”

Tony’s not all the way functional just yet, but he manages an impressive stare directly into Natasha’s eyes. “Do you really think I can make Steve do anything he doesn’t want to do? Or the other way around? In this _very specific_ matter?”

Natasha’s very small, very polite, very amused smile does not change. “Something for you to work at, then.”

Tony sneers, but concedes the point while he drinks his coffee.

He’s not going on this mission. It’s recon, which isn’t really his thing, and he has other business matters to deal with anyway. Steve should be down here already – team leader and all – but he’s still changing, which as has already been established is more Steve’s fault than Tony’s, because Steve’s the one who’d spent most of this morning buried in Tony’s ass as if he’d wanted a green card for the place.

Tony’s kinda impressed that Natasha hasn’t made a single quip about Tony’s choosing to stand by the counter instead of sitting down.

They’ve been together for a couple of weeks by now, but have only had sex four times so far. Not for lack of wanting, judging by the very heavy petting they’d got up to on Valentine’s, but there’s stuff outside the sex that needs working on, too.

Tony’s still… jittery. He doesn’t want to be, and he doesn’t mean to be, but their being together still feels rather like a dream, unreal except where it’s also too real. Steve now knows that Tony loves him, and has loved him from some indeterminate point in the near past that Steve knows better to ask the exact details of, but even with Steve’s very happy acceptance of it, Tony’s self-consciousness on the matter hasn’t quite gone away. Tony feels like a flame, flickering and uncertain, except that now he has Steve’s attentiveness and focus and care, the man determined to bring Tony out to full strength.

The same push and pull that’s been between them still exists, but with the rules shifted sideways. New boundaries, new discoveries. For all that they’ve supposedly been dating all this while anyway, it’s completely different to do it with the knowledge and expectation they now have of each other.

Not that Steve’s been demanding; quite the opposite. He doesn’t initiate anything he isn’t sure that Tony’s also ready for, which is nice, though not really necessary. Tony doesn’t mind (see: really fucking enjoys) all of it: kissing Steve, touching him, being touched by him, letting Steve hug him at any random time of the day for no fucking reason whatsoever.

What’s really keeping Tony off-kilter is how happy Steve is. Who knew that the guy had been telling the truth when he said all he wanted was to be Tony’s? These days Steve walks around like he’s two notes away from breaking out into spontaneous song, and Tony doesn’t quite know how to accept being responsible for that.

“Hey,” Natasha says. “Thought we’d have to send a rescue party.”

“Ha,” Steve says, strapping up the shield holster as he walks in. “A decent threat, but I know none of you would volunteer.”

“I’d volunteer,” Vision says.

“He would,” Tony says.

Steve’s smile doesn’t change, but Tony can see the shift in his eyes when they move over Tony, as opposed to the general sweep over the others. It’s ridiculous, they’d literally fucked a half hour ago, yet Tony’s heart is going pitter-patter at the man’s presence.

The others are talking now – Steve, Natasha, Rhodey et al. – but hell if Tony can hear anything. He’s too busy thinking about how he’s still smarting around his waist, where Steve had held onto him as he’d fucked him into the mattress. Tony had been facedown, Steve spooned up behind him and Steve’s mouth moving on the skin of Tony’s back as he’d thrust shallowly, unhurriedly (despite knowing the departure time for this mission). At the time Tony had thought that Steve had been kissing him, but maybe Steve had been whispering, and too softly for Tony to hear – maybe on purpose.

No, it had to be on purpose. Whenever Steve makes any of his ridiculous declarations, he always makes sure that Tony hears and understands.

Steve’s walking towards him.

Tony’s hearing kicks in just as Steve says, “—and don’t push the security investigation until we get back.”

“Geez, I know,” Tony says automatically. “I heard you the first two hundred times.”

“I’m not kidding,” Steve says. “No matter what you find, you wait for us to come back.”

“What if I find something critical?”

“Then you call it in, get our go before you proceed.”

“What if you’re uncontactable?”

“Tony!”

“It can happen!” Tony starts to flail, but Steve’s hand wraps around on his, keeping the coffee mug safe. Tony rolls his eyes at Steve’s scowl, but lifts his chin to accept Steve’s kiss.

It’s a solid kiss, warm and wonderful. Steve pulls back and says, “You promise not to push ahead until we’re back?”

“I promise to do my best to keep within that wave function, yes.”

Steve sighs, so Tony kisses him again.

“Okay, bye,” Tony says. “Be safe.”

“Aww, thanks, Tony,” Rhodey calls out from across the room. “So nice that you care.”

Tony leans away from Steve to give Rhodey a look, but even so Tony can see Steve start to smile at the corner of his eye. Steve’s so gone. Even in pre-mission mode, he’s a lost man, and Tony feels stupidly fucking joyous even as he knows that this isn’t new information at all. Steve fucking lights up like a goddamned Vegas strip sign when Tony holds his hand, that’s how fucking gone he is.

But it’s too soon for Steve to love him. No matter where they are, it’s too soon for that, and it’s too soon for Steve to even think about saying anything along those lines because of Tony’s well-established skittishness. Hell, Tony freaked out despite not even being able to say the words directly, so whatever it is Steve breathed onto Tony’s skin has to be something else. Or maybe whatever he said had to be for _Steve’s_ benefit, and had nothing to do with Tony whatsoever.

Ha.

Tony watches Steve go, the others (sans Vision, who’s also staying) settling into loose formation around him.

The urge rises in Tony’s chest, compulsive and urgent. He calls out: “Love you!”

Steve trips. He skids, turns, eyes wide and face slack with utter betrayal.

“We really have to go,” Natasha says quietly.

“I _know_ ,” Steve says through gritted teeth.

“Bye!” Tony says, waving.

They go. Steve even manages to do so without looking back.

Vision, who has joined Tony standing at the counter, says, “You really should give him a break.”

“If he wanted a break, he wouldn’t be dating _me_ ,” Tony points out.

 

 

About an hour later FRIDAY chirps up that Tony’s received a text message. He opens his phone, finding a missive from Steve that goes:

 _You probably think you’re being funny but it’s unfair of you to say things like that when I can’t respond the way I want. Maybe that’s the point whenever you do these things, because when you KNOW I can’t respond in a timely fashion, you feel that it’s “safe”, but you should know that you’re denying ME the right to express myself. Your skewed priorities deserve retaliation, but it’s in a show of fairness that I’m warning you that_ …

The message goes much longer than that, but Tony pauses reading, heart going pitter-patter, and clutches the phone to his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Cachette made AMAZING fanart inspired by this fic! Check it out: [on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18518521) or [on tumblr](https://acachette.tumblr.com/post/184273454645/for-no-gorms-annie-d-scaramouche-on-ao3-and).
> 
> [Plus, this fic's tumblr post!](http://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/182134863486/no-gorms-loves-such-an-old-fashioned-word)


End file.
